


Not A Morning Person, Then

by cyus (cruentum)



Series: Sharing Spaces (Pizza Mouth verse) [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mornings are for sleep-ins, Ianto would argue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Morning Person, Then

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on LJ 25/08/09

They'd forgotten to draw the curtains when they'd stumbled into bed at five in the morning and dawn already lurking in the front garden,- that is, Ianto had forgotten, Jack had simply ignored them. It left the sunlight to stream in through the windows now, mid-morning and closer to noon, hopefully closer to noon than to morning. Ianto turned his face deeper into the pillows, eyes and nose and mouth reaching for a few more minutes of sleep.

Something tickled at his thigh, and Ianto shifted out of the way, grunted into the pillow when _something_ followed. "Keep your bloody hands to yourself," he muttered and rolled to the side, hugging the cooler side of the bed to himself, cover half-tangled with his feet, thick between his calves and knees and thighs.

"Mmm, you smell good," Jack whispered into his neck from behind him, breath fawning over the hair at the nape of Ianto's neck, past his ear.

"Fuck off." Ianto twisted his shoulder back, tried to push Jack off.

"No." Jack was grinning. That toothy smile was in his voice, plastered right there to worm into Ianto's brain.

Ianto turned, pushed his hands against Jack's chest and opened tired eyes to him in a lazy blink, scrunched forehead. It felt like he'd been asleep for only an hour, just mid-sleep cycle number one of two. He tried for more internal sense and coherency, then gave up, thumped a flat palm to Jack's chest once with a grunt and hid his face in the crook of his arm, curled up a little more.

Jack, chuckling above him, drew his hand from Ianto's shoulder down his ribs to his hip, fondled his cock, and Ianto rolled over and off the bed, managed to land on his feet, thank fuck, and drew the blanket with him. He held it to his chest, like he was catching a few more minutes of a nap standing up, glared at Jack over the cotton. Toes curled into the thin carpet, he rubbed the blanket over his eyes, drew his brows and stood in, if he may say so, accusing silence.

Jack heaved a sigh and splayed back on the bed, naked and shameless as he raked his eyes over Ianto's form.

"What," Ianto bit out, voice muffled. He turned to look over his shoulder and drew the curtains now because the neighbours didn't need to see his bare arse shining in the window. The shimmying darkness with the curtains in place made him want to crawl back into bed. He closed his eyes, swayed a bit, before he cracked one open to find Jack still looking at him, propped up on his elbows.

"You're no fun," Jack stated.

"I'm taking a piss," Ianto gave back and dumped the blanket on Jack as he rounded the bed to go to the bathroom, now that he was on his feet.

"Can I watch?" Jack shouted from the bed.

"You can drink it for all I care," Ianto muttered to the toilet bowl as he held his cock pointed to piss, rubbed his stubbly chin on his shoulder, glanced at himself in the mirror and at Jack when Jack came to stand in the doorway.

"Really?" Jack stepped closer to Ianto, walked right up behind him and trailed his fingers down Ianto's thigh and into the stream of piss.

"Fuck." Ianto jerked, missed the bowl, then hurriedly pointed his cock back in the right direction.

"Whoops." Jack said, but the chuckle burbled in his throat and chest as he stood pressed tight to Ianto's back. "I can lick it up, hmmm, _sir_."

Ianto rolled his eyes and shook himself off. "Idiot. Clean it up? I'll..." he nodded at the bed, "just another hour, and then sex? Blowjob..." He trailed off, already walking back into the bedroom. Without turning around, "Don't tell me you're really licking it up."

A wet washcloth hit him square in the back and the yelp, shout, manly grunt that made it past his lips upon contact made him crawl under the blanket he'd dumped on the bed and hide there. He rubbed his back on the sheets for the wet splash to dry. "I hope that was water," he said through the blanket.

Jack laughed. It echoed in the bathroom. 

Ianto missed having a window in the bathroom. And a bathtub. He'd always wanted to fuck in a bathtub like in porn flicks. Maybe bathtubs hurt less on the knees than showerstalls. He hated giving blowjobs in showerstalls and always dragged Jack out on the carpet. Or the bed. The mattress didn't fuck up his knees.

The bed dipped with Jack's weight and an arm and leg were slung over Ianto in the blanket.

"Suffocating," Ianto muttered, and wriggled a small breathing hole free for, well, breath until Jack stuck his face in and caught Ianto's lips with his own. "One hour?" Ianto mumbled against Jack's cheek and curled his blanket cocoon closer to Jack's chest, hid his face in cotton and muscles.

When he woke, it was to Jack pushing his hips against him. Ianto snorted sleep-drunk laughter into his blanket and fumbled his hand out for Jack, fingernails catching on a thigh (Jack jerked and Ianto laughed harder), knuckles brushing his balls, and he wrapped his fingers around Jack's cock, just kept them there and let Jack fuck his hand while he blinked into the darkness of his blanket world.

Jack came with a groan and a bite to Ianto's shoulder through cotton sheets. Ianto wiped his hand on Jack's stomach, rubbed his face against Jack's chest. "Still not awake," he said, quite distinctly, but the blanket lifted from around his middle and warm breath tickled along his thigh.

Ianto jerked up, scrambling a bit but Jack pressed his hands to Ianto's hips and mouthed his merely semi-hard cock, swallowed him down, tongue pressed against the underside. Jack took his time, mouthing and licking and suckling while Ianto, with his eyes closed and the warmth of the blanket around him, drew his fingers through Jack's hair, rubbed behind his ear and was content to just touch him.

Jack pulled off. "Shower?"

"It's your knees," Ianto gave back and stuck his head out of the blanket, grimaced at the one gap in the curtains that shone sunlight directly into his eyes.

He'd always wanted a bathtub. Porn flicks had made sex seem so utterly sexy in them, and Lisa had begged. They'd done it in a hotel room and blamed the controls. It was the United States, surely bathtubs in the UK were sexier. They never got to try.

Jack had a thing for showerstalls, early in the morning, late at night. The water was sluicing over them and caught in Jack's hair and Ianto's pubes and the morning filtered into Ianto's bones and his cock, made him push himself into Jack's mouth. He grabbed him by his hair for a good pace and kind of wish for a bigger dick to really make Jack feel it.

Showerstalls were okay. As long as it wasn't him on his knees. And Jack was better at blowjobs anyway; Ianto never managed not to gag on the come.


End file.
